


Shaken, Not Stirred

by fulcrumstardust



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Espionage, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, In which I pretend to understand poker, Movie: Casino Royale (2006), Partners to Lovers, Sarcasm as a Love Language, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Suit Porn, Undercover Missions, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulcrumstardust/pseuds/fulcrumstardust
Summary: “It’s up to you, Mr. Andor.”Right.Poker. The mission that didn’t include daydreaming about closing his mouth around his partner’s hard nipple.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 41
Kudos: 178





	Shaken, Not Stirred

**Author's Note:**

> This story was requested by [crispy eagle fox](https://crispyeaglefox-blog.tumblr.com/) \- thank you so much, I had a lot of fun writing this! I hope that I did a good job and that you'll enjoy it! :)

**SHAKEN, NOT STIRRED**

“Does everyone have a tell?”

Cassian tore his gaze from the window, not quite looking at the woman sharing his ride either. He knew from experience that Jyn Erso didn’t give a damn about poker altogether. She’d made no mystery as to how she felt about that sort of gambling: no matter the mathematical genius, leaving your hand to chance was reckless. When the stakes were as high as $100 million, reckless became terrorist. Her exact words.

Cassian still decided to humor her, unable to evade. “Yes, everyone.”

She huffed a little sound of disdain. The weight of her stare lingered on him. He imagined the expression in her light eyes: studying him with a mocking shine, one quirked eyebrow. “What’s your tell?” She liked to play that game.

Agent Erso was, by far, the most infuriating partner he had to work with. Non-content to be a cold-hearted bitch with a bad mouth, she was also a sarcastic little demon trapped in the body of a twenty-something attractive woman. A terrible, terrible combination.

But Agent Andor—a jaded spy with undiagnosed PTSD and anger issues trying to fill a dark void with gambling and women—liked to play that game, too.

“I’d be a fool to tell you,” he said, turning to face her.

The corner of her mouth slightly moved up. Not a real smile. Not even a smirk. Just the promise that she was up to the challenge. They did that a lot: bickering, more than he thought would amuse him.

The first time they met, both summoned by M to the SIS headquarters (Vauxhall, London), Cassian had been struck by her passionless attitude. For the past fifteen years, he’d profiled all sorts of people. Criminals, mostly. From narcissists to psychopaths, a full spectrum of human conditions to dissect. Cassian was trained to isolate behaviors, emotions, or therefore the lack of. What he diagnosed in Jyn Erso neared apathy and highly clashed with the standards of the MI6. Such an unusual operative.

He wondered where M had found her. Her file read ‘Operational data analyst’, transcription: a hacker with the highest clearance legality had to offer. Agent Erso would know everything there was to know about virtually anyone. He had no illusion about the fact that she’d dug up his file the minute his name was mentioned to her. To be fair, he’d done the same. Not a lot of information in it: came from money, lost both her parents before the age of ten, private education, spent the majority of her younger years in a boarding school in the South of France.

He would have been able to tell as much without reading it. She dressed in nice, expensive clothes that didn’t feature designer logos on them. Her mannerisms were polished but her mind hostile and untrusting. When she was particularly displeased, she started swearing in French while maintaining a straight face at all times. But this was all behavioral psychology.

Cassian was more interested in the missing details. For one: the activist cell she’d joined at sixteen, and what drove her to abandon her cyber-terrorism to join a governmental agency. His best bet was that she’d cut a deal to avoid a long, hard sentencing.

“Are you afraid that I might use it against you?” she asked.

“I know you would.”

“Don’t you have any faith in me, Andor?” She tilted her head in theatrical offense. “I thought we were a team.”

He snorted. “I don’t enjoy group projects.”

“I noticed. Well,” she flattened the fabric of her dark blue two-piece suit, “you’re gonna have to work on that, dear husband.”

Her sarcasm had a sweet undertone, making it easy to let it slip under your skin if you weren’t paying attention. Cassian had started to get used to her style. Picking up the subtleties in her tone became easier. It might prove useful, considering that they were, indeed, pretending to be wed for the duration of their assignment.

The idea of being married to Jyn Erso was equally amusing and horrifying to him. She wasn’t the type of person to settle down into a relationship. She would never belong to somebody else, and—in his not so humble opinion—she was incapable of showing vulnerability and emotional availability. Which he knew how to spot because he was guilty of the same.

But this was all a game of appearance, and they were experts in that regard.

“Since you’re going to keep me company while I play,” Cassian said, “why don’t you take the opportunity to study it?”

“Don’t think I’ll be watching _you_ ,” she replied dryly. “I’m supposed to track the game and the mark, not bat my eyes at you.”

Cassian leaned his shoulder towards her, a half-smile meant to irritate her in response. “Well, I suppose you’re gonna have to work on that, dear wife.”

She didn’t roll her eyes, solely because she’d made a habit of filtering her facial expressions. So much that he had trouble discerning between the genuine and the performative, calculated ones. Jyn Erso was a whole new level of infuriating, yes, but she was also intrinsically interesting to analyze. Of course, Cassian would’ve preferred if he wasn’t standing on the same side of the line as her. It complicated things for him. Having a partner, however little he actually relied on her (and certainly not for his personal safety), added a level of hazardous components to the mission.

He couldn’t control Agent Erso’s actions on the field. And to make matters worse, she had the most peculiar approach to undercover work he had ever encountered in his career. A vast understatement.

Exhibit A: upon arriving at their destination, the renowned Le Splendide hotel, situated directly across the Casino Royale (Royale-les-Eaux, France), Jyn checked in at the reception without much consideration for the efforts put into their backstory.

“ _Bonjour_ ,” she politely smiled at the front desk, “we have a reservation for two. Joseph and Liana Dawn. You may as well register it under Andor.”

The stern-looking receptionist didn’t blink. “Certainly, madame.” And supplied them two magnetic cards, while delivering a brown envelope addressed to ‘Mr. & Mrs. Dawn’ at the same time.

Cassian waited for her to handle the formalities, bracing himself with a lazy elbow against the polished marble counter and taking stock of the surroundings. Only when she made a move towards the elevators, did he pick up the conversation.

“Care to enlighten me?”

Jyn handed him one of the key cards just as the reflective golden elevator doors opened in front of them. No one else shared their lift to the third floor, granting her the liberty to speak without guarding her words.

“Do you really think the man doesn’t know who you are?” She kept her attention in front of her, watching the numbers go up with each floor. In the enclosed space, the notes of her fragrance reached his nose with a pleasant smell: flowers, musk, a hint of wood. Maybe cedar. “I guarantee that he knew your name from the moment they entered you into the game and still decided to play you. You may as well put your big boy pants on and act like you can’t be bothered to pretend. Send a message.”

She said it with such a haughty tone that he had to hide a menacing smile. Keeping his voice neutral: “You made me look cocky.”

A click of the tongue signaled her fundamental disagreement. A tell for when she thought explaining herself over shouldn’t have been necessary (i.e., the other party was being a stupid moron undeserving of her time.) “I made you look confident and reckless, both options playing at your advantage. Aren’t _you_ supposed to be the profiler?” Turning her head to him, she lifted her chin with a defiant little purse of the lips.

No matter how she carried herself, she would always be smaller than him. She was infuriating, yes, but her attitude certainly filled some big shoes. Cassian couldn’t be mad about that.

The door opened onto the third floor. She extended her arm, her facial expression softening with surprising ease. The return of the sweet fakeness. “Carry my bag, darling, will you?”

Cassian took the expensive black leather bag from her care (wondering what she’d managed to stuff inside for it to be this heavy) and offered his arm in turn. “Of course, love,” he mellowed with a mirrored tone.

The endearment term irked her more than the proximity of his body. She dug her nails into his arm as a punishment, probably ruining the fabric of his jacket. The pair of them walked the distance to their suite, the sounds of footsteps conveniently muffled by the cream-color carpet lining the long hallway.

Cassian did some mental mapping of the layout on the way: emergency exits, surveillance cameras, service staircases, and blind spots. The suite they shared was a double. He put down Jyn’s bag on a coffee table and left his jacket on the closest bed to the bedroom's door to mark his territory.

“Aren’t we supposed to be happily married?” he asked, placing a handgun into the bedside table for easy reach.

“Happiness starts with a peaceful sleep and I do not like to be smoldered by a man.” She sat on the green sofa, bending over to reach her bag, and retrieved a slick-looking computer. “Get over your disappointment. Needy isn’t attractive.”

“Hardly,” Cassian said. “You’re not my type.”

Jyn snickered without looking up from her screen: “What, smart?”

“Single.”

For a second, the tapping on her keyboard paused. Cassian walked back to the door, waiting for the hotel porter to deliver the rest of their luggage. It nicely worked to mask the satisfaction he felt at her reaction. No need to give her food for thoughts.

⁂

Following the welcome intel envelope left at their attention, Jyn and Cassian met with their contact in Royale-les-Eaux. The agent, an attractive man dressed like a successful banker, had picked the crowded terrace of an overpriced seafood restaurant, in the historical city center. Kind of an odd choice for a meeting, in Jyn’s opinion.

Mr. Rook surveyed them from behind a pair of square-shaped sunglasses. Despite the sunny weather, he kept his suit jacket on. Jyn wondered how an SIS operative could afford a watch as expensive as the one at his wrist. All in all, extremely well put together, probably as a tool for fieldwork as much as personal tastes. Agent Andor, who certainly lacked any sense of style whatsoever, could use some lessons from the man.

But they weren’t meeting to talk about Secret Service fashion.

“Does he know we’ve been watching him?” Cassian asked, arms relaxed on his armchairs.

Jyn had noticed his propensity to fit in any kind of setting with natural ease. He was the type of person who _didn’t_ need a change of clothes to play the part. Most people lacked that sort of confidence, but Agent Andor only needed his smile and bothersome handsomeness.

“Le Directeur? I don’t think so. Probably because there’s no ‘we’. Just me.” Rook took a sip from his glass of carbonated lemon water. “He arrived yesterday. Has been busy re-establishing old relationships. The chief of police and he are now quite close.”

“That could make things really unpleasant for us,” Jyn noted.

“Yes,” Rook agreed. “That’s him, over my shoulder, with the mustache.”

Ah, _there_ was the reason. She spared a glance at the designated man. He looked harmless enough, but quite obnoxious, a receding hairline and two younger women keeping him company. Certainly not relatives.

“He’s not a very subtle man,” the other agent pursued. “I tried to buy his services… but frankly, we couldn’t afford to outbid Le Directeur.”

“Blackmail?” Jyn proposed. “I can dig out some cadavers. I bet he doesn’t even use a VPN.”

Rook shook his head with a polite smile. Next to her, Cassian reached for the Zippo lighter he carried in his pants pocket and lit a cigarette. The smell of tobacco reminded her of her father’s office. She ignored the unpleasant pull inside her chest, tasting Champagne on her lips.

Cassian hadn’t taken two puffs of his cigarette that police sirens started to get louder and closer by the second. Jyn had forgotten how different they sounded from British emergency vehicles. A ‘nostalgic’ reminiscence of her younger years—of sort.

Three police cars pulled up in the middle of the little square with a dramatic effect. Blue uniforms jumped into action to apprehend the man having lunch in the nearby restaurant. All three SIS agents enjoyed the viewing of the scene from their premium seats.

“I decided to supply his deputy with proof of corruption,” Rook explained, enthusiastically digging into his locally sourced fish filet. “The things you can do with Photoshop these days… I think your odds are improving, Mr. Andor.”

Cassian blew his smoke away from the table but didn’t comment. Without the support of corrupted authorities, the net closing around Le Directeur only got tighter. If Cassian effectively won that poker game as everyone seemed to be hoping, the terrorist financier only known by his tasteless alias would have nowhere else to run to. With a hundred million in deficit (due to the intervention of the SIS earlier this month over a last-minute-avoided American airline disaster) and unable to repay the warlord he owed the money to, Le Directeur would be forced to seek a deal with the agency to assure his survival.

At least, M thought he would—and that justified, somehow, to hand over ten million of the taxpayers’ money to Agent Andor and his gambling addiction. What an odd thing to do.

Jyn wondered what would happen if he lost it all, inadvertently financing terrorism operations. Would they get rid of their own man? Looking at him, as impassive as always, it was hard to imagine that he felt any sort of that crushing pressure on his shoulders.

She’d heard some rumors about temperamental issues, but so far, she’d seen none of it. Even when she made sure to poke at his patience, he played her games instead. She would have been well advised not to take it as a challenge. Alas, Jyn Erso was anything but cautious.

After leaving their informer, the two of them went back to their hotel. They had a few hours left before the beginning of the game, and Jyn spent it behind her computer screen, trying to harvest more information about their mark. She’d been tracking his movements for the past month and had drafted some peculiar connections to a still-unidentified group. The same nameless group that introduced Le Directeur to the leader of a terrorist party based in North Korea, to which he owed his money. A lot of middlemen seemed to be involved in the plot.

Catching the end of the rope could potentially lead to higher targets, but Jyn wondered if letting Le Directeur meet his karma in the hands of the North Koreans wasn’t a better option. Not that she had a say in it. She was here to assist Agent Andor, and nothing else.

Later this evening, Jyn went to the bathroom to make herself ready. Dressed in a black silk negligee, she pulled out makeup and hair products from a travel bag. The bright light above the double sink made the crystal pendant of her necklace glisten over her chest. A short knock on the door interrupted her.

“What?” Cassian cracked the door open and hooked an evening gown behind it. She frowned. “Who gave you permission to go through my clothes?”

He looked at her reflection in the mirror. “You can’t bring something like that and not wear it tonight.”

“I’m not taking fashion advice from you,” she said dryly. “The one I choose looks better.”

“No, it doesn’t. This one goes with your eyes and I need the players to think about your neckline and not their cards when you’ll walk up behind me to kiss me good luck.” He flashed a fake, condescending smile at her. “Do you think you can do that for me, love?”

Jyn wanted to flip him off. Instead, she smiled back. “I’ll do my _best_.” And what did he know about her eyes, anyway?

Satisfied, Cassian disappeared— only to reappear ten minutes later, black tie hanging around his shirt’s collar and a questioning look on his face. Jyn paused with her blending brush in the air, sparkly gray eyeshadow around the eyes. “What now?” she questioned (although, she already knew the answer.)

Cassian lifted the satin lapels dinner jacket she’d made delivered to the suite. “Didn’t my formal wear meet your expectations?”

“There are dinner jackets and dinner jackets,” Jyn pointed out, resuming the blending of her smokey look. “This is the later. You want to look like a man who can afford to lose ten million over a bad poker hand, don’t you?”

He had some unpleasant reply on the tip of his tongue. She saw him clench his jaws, then relax. The little curved smile peeking under a neatly trimmed beard created a dimple on his left cheek. Hard to say if he was amused or irritated. “It’s _tailored_.”

“Yes,” Jyn said, unfazed. “A good wife knows her husband’s silhouette.”

“And here you had me thinking that you were doing intel work all this time when, really, you were just checking me out.”

She curled and coated her lashes with mascara as she spoke. “You have such a nice ass.”

“Thanks for noticing,” he said. Jyn sputtered a laugh. “I’ll see you there in my brand new jacket, then. Don’t be too late, I might need your silhouette.”

⁂

Dressed to the nines, Cassian exited Le Spendide hotel and walked along the evening dew-covered pathway leading across the road, where the Casino Royale stood. The old edifice welcomed him into wood-lined rooms, a crowd of wealthy people gathered around game tables, drinking Champagne, and flushing casino tokens like pocket money. Cassian found a new appreciation for the expensive jacket.

Entering a ‘salon privé’ (guarded by a metal plaque reading ‘by invitation only’), Cassian smiled at a young lady in red attire.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Good evening.”

Down a set of stairs, he had to empty his pockets to walk through a metal detector gate. Phone and keys were resituated to him on the other side.

Surveying the private room he had just entered, game table in the center, Cassian noticed that he was the last player to arrive. He joined the rest of the group, waiting by the bar with light drinks in hands. He’d seen their faces on a digital screen, names and personal information stored in his brain, ready to be accessed on demand.

Le Directeur, a tall man with gray hair and hooded eyes, shifted his attention on Cassian before he had any chance to introduce himself.

“And you must be Mr. Bliss’ replacement. Welcome Mr. Dawn,” the man said with a grainy voice. “Or is it Andor? You have me confused, here.”

Cassian politely took the offered hand. “Hoping that your mind clears out, then.” That owed him a firmer squeeze of hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a man interrupted, perched on the slightly elevated podium. “As you know, the game is no-limit hold ‘em poker. Five communal cards, two in the hole. Monsieur Mendel, here, represents the Basel Banks, Switzerland holding the stakes.”

Following the cue, said-Mendel slightly bowed his head and went on with the logistics. “ _Mesdames et Messieurs_ , you have each deposited ten million dollars buy-in. A further buy-in of five million can be made by electronic transfer. The money will remain in escrow until I return and the winner of the game enters his or her password into the encryptor, whereupon the entire sum will be wired to any bank account you nominate.”

Cassian envisioned, for a brief moment, the outraged look on M’s face if he wired the money to his private bank account. Probably the last thing he’d see, but dangerously entertaining.

“Mr. Andor?” the banker called with his chanting accent. “We proceed alphabetically. Please be so kind to enter the password of your choice.”

He hadn’t thought of that detail beforehand. Approaching the man and his high-tech suitcase, Cassian quickly surveyed his mind for inspiration.

“Six letters or more,” Mendel said.

It didn’t take long to conjure something up. Cassian pressed the alphanumeric keypad with his password (7-8-2-7-3-8-7-8) and stepped back. When everyone had their turns and the last of the formalities were set up, the players went to take seats around the oval table.

Cassian placed himself directly in front of Le Directeur, analyzing and cataloging the man’s facial expressions. For now, he could only read disdain and a slight impatience in his traits.

“High card for dealer position,” the staff member called. A man named Gallardo secured the most desirable position. Subsequently— “Mr. Kaminofsky is the small blind, five thousand dollars, and Mrs. Fukutu the big blind, ten thousand dollars. Enjoy the game.”

And so, as tokens left the stacks and entered the game, it began. The dealer distributed cards around the table. Cassian watched closely as Le Directeur looked at his hand. His face remained blank, but he spent some time staring at Cassian, back.

For some reason, he remembered Jyn’s words: _Send a message_. It seemed to have worked.

⁂

The first few rounds of betting were less about winning and more about seizing every player up. Most of Cassian’s attention remained focused on Le Directeur, although the man two seats to his right—a certain Mr. Calrissian—seemed to be a dangerous opponent.

After the next pre-flop betting round, most of the players folded, leaving only four of them, conveniently including Le Directeur and Cassian, to take part in the flop. The Nine, Eight, and Five of Hearts came out. The two other players opted out.

Le Directeur flipped a token between his index and middle fingers, seemingly weighing his decision. He placed two of those in front of him.

“Bet,” the dealer said, “fifty thousand.”

Still eyeing the man in front of him, Cassian marked the subtle, unnatural delay before he allowed himself to blink again, as if trying to control the automatic response of his eyes. _Interesting_. Cassian threw two identical chips from his stacks to match the bet.

“Call.”

The next card to be dealt was the Nine of Clubs.

“Monsieur Le Directeur,” the dealer called, inviting another round of betting.

While Cassian should have remained focused on his adversary, something else caught his sight: Jyn Erso, entering the room wearing the green silk dress he’d chosen for her earlier. He’d been right; this was the better option. She looked breathtaking, her dark brown hair pulled up into a braided bun to reveal the delicate skin of her neck and shoulders. The light fabric undulated over her body with each of her steps, flowing like water. By some unspoken miracle, the thin stripes kept the deep opening of her dress from exposing the wrong parts of her anatomy, while providing strong incendiary images to his subconscious.

She looked as if she could _ruin_ him (maybe literally) and, for a moment, he was tempted to let her.

Jyn walked up to him and bent over his shoulder. Her perfume only clouded his brain further, wondering if her skin tasted as good as it smelled. She pressed her lips on his cheek—in a strangely sweet manner. Cassian turned to her, feeling her warm breath so close to him, resisting the urge to look down.

“Weren’t you supposed to enter so the others could see you?” he whispered.

“Was I? I must have forgotten.” That snarky bitch. She smiled, full of sarcasm: “Good luck, darling.”

Jyn departed, greedy and longing stares following each of her movements as she went to take a seat at the bar.

“It’s up to you, Mr. Andor.”

Right. _Poker_. The mission that didn’t include daydreaming about closing his mouth around his partner’s hard nipple.

“Sorry,” he said, stretching out his hand, “what was it, a hundred thousand?”

“Call.”

The Two of Hearts appeared on the table.

“Bet. Two hundred thousand.” Cassian matched it. Time for the showdown. Le Directeur revealed his hand first. “A full house to Monsieur Le Directeur. Deuces full of nines. Mr. Andor?”

Cassian slid his cards to the dealer, faced down. “Fold.” He had a terrible hand from the start, but the point of the maneuver hadn’t been to win. Not this time, anyway. Le Directeur appeared satisfied while he gathered the pot. From the corner of his eyes, Cassian noticed that Jyn, on the other hand, _wasn’t_ satisfied with him for losing some decent money to a terrorist.

He would try to blame it on her ‘nice ass’, later, and see how that amused her.

For now, he deemed it worth it to discover the man’s tell. Maybe a mathematical genius, but winning had been blind luck. Odds 23-to-1. Le Directeur knew it and bluffed his way through it until the last card. Cassian would remember that.

⁂

No need to be an expert profiler to notice the effect she had on him. Unforeseen to her, Jyn _liked_ his reaction—excessively so.

Yes, she’d intended to flaunt her body around that table and to tease him purely for the benefit of her enjoyment. But something in the way he looked at her, with such a lustful gaze, went way beyond the established flirtatious state of their cover.

In other words: her mischief came back to bite her right in the ass.

Taking a Martini glass to her lips, Jyn had trouble pushing those thoughts aside. The man was attractive—anyone with a functioning pair of eyes could attest to it—especially tonight, wearing such nice attire. She’d slept with men who had half his wit and charisma. Not a big stretch for Jyn to envision herself enjoying that partnership in bed.

She wondered how Cassian would fuck her. (What was his favorite position? What did he sound like when he came?)

If she ever intended to find out, winning the game was a prerequisite. And, so far, Cassian hadn’t demonstrated many of his supposed poker skills. By the time they reached an intermission, Le Directeur and Calrissian were leading the competition.

“We’ve now been playing for four hours,” a staff member said, “it’s time for a short break. We will resume in one hour.”

Perfect. Jyn slipped off her chair, abandoning her glass behind, and went to join Cassian. A bald man exchanged a few confidential words with Le Directeur, which prompted him to leave the table in a hurry. As she crossed paths with him, Jyn ‘inadvertently’ tripped over the carpet floor, catching him by the arm.

The older man examined her briefly, evidently displeased, but whatever business his escort had brought to his attention was more pressing than a tipsy woman.

“Excuse me,” he said, caustic, yanking his arm away.

Cassian waited near the gaming table, and placed a hand on her lower back. “Did you have too much to drink, love?”

“I’m afraid so,” Jyn said and gave him a dark look, “with you losing so much money that we won’t be here past midnight.”

“What I need to win is a lucky spell from you,” he said, insolent, moving them towards the exit without delay. “Let’s go back to our room.”

“If by that you mean a handjob, I regret to inform you that I didn’t have _that much_ to drink.”

As they followed in Le Directeur’s footsteps closely, a few meters behind the man and his escort, Cassian brought his lips to her temple, whispering with his caressing voice: “I was more thinking of using your mouth to avoid staining. Someone I know would be upset if I ruined this lovely jacket.”

That _fucker_.

Jyn didn’t outwardly react to the provocation, all too proud, but a twitch of arousal lingered between her legs. The moment seemed rather inconvenient to be thinking about sucking his cock. ( _What kind of cover is that?_ ) His solid arm tightened around her waist in the cold evening, only adding fuel to that dumpster fire.

“Did you get the tracker on him?” Cassian asked with the exact same tone.

“Yes, in his breast pocket.”

Although, for now, the mark was evidently heading back to the hotel. Entering just a few minutes later, Cassian and Jyn stopped by the reception. Agent Andor insisted that he needed to retrieve another parcel from the front desk, rather than chasing after their mark.

Jyn was about to complain as much when the elevator doors slid shut. “He’s on the fifth floor,” she said, following the tracking device signal on her smartphone. “Do we— oh.”

Cassian had opened the inconspicuous envelope and attached a silencer on the muzzle of a Beretta handgun. He unbuttoned his jacket with the opposite hand, hiding the weapon against his flank, and said: “Just a quick scouting.”

Hardly convincing. Why would surveillance require the use of firepower?

Emerging on the fifth floor, and before Jyn could point to the corresponding door, muffled sounds of struggle led them straight to the man’s suite. Cassian automatically sought cover in the recess connecting to the stairs access, dragging Jyn behind him.

Based on primary analysis, it wasn’t unreasonable to think that the North Koreans had tracked down the man in order to get their money back. A hundred million dollars would motivate people like that. A lot of beating seemed to be involved in the process of reparation. Not that it saddened her; to the contrary.

If someone were to ‘regrettably’ kill Le Directeur tonight, how bad could that really be? One less terrorist on the market. M would be pissed, but Jyn wouldn’t lose sleep over it.

Cassian made no move to intervene, either, standing watch, which… made him hotter than he already was. Jyn liked to have her men on her side of justice.

When movements neared the door and someone cracked open with an audible _click_ , Cassian turned around and pressed Jyn against the wall. The most effective tactic to blend in, as old as espionage went back. She didn’t anticipate putting a hand behind his neck and pulling him down into a hard kiss. She, however, noticed how unresisting he was.

His lips moved on hers, warm and inviting, the contrast of stiff hairs against the soft skin of her face. Her head fell back to compensate for his height, while he rounded his spine to match her. He knew how to kiss, truly, passionately. This wasn’t up for debate. Diversion or not, an itch of desire returned under his touch, overwhelming. Jyn slowly parted her lips and let his tongue glide against hers, sharing the remnants of her Martini with him. No brutality, no dominance, only pure lust, and a promise—

She wanted more. She wanted _so much more_.

Two silhouettes walked past them in the otherwise-empty corridor. Jyn thought that she would be able to enjoy a bit more of Agent Andor. Unfortunately, the events turned sour.

Hard to say what tipped the men off. They jumped on them in unison. Cassian pushed her towards the stairs and slammed the door into someone’s face. Before she had any time to think, a tall man erupted into the dark staircase, holding a handgun, and looking for a target.

Cassian kicked his foot into the man’s arm. The weapon fell all the way down to the first floor, loudly hitting the metallic railing along the way. Braced against the wall with both arms, Cassian threw another kick at his opponent, catching him in the chest. A short scream and the man followed his weapon. Jyn’s stomach jumped in her throat upon hearing the terrible sound of his landing.

No time to dwell on it. The second hitman had pulled out a hunting knife and tried to eviscerate Cassian with it. He jumped back to save his guts, landing a few stairs down, and almost lost his balance.

Now with a significant disadvantage, Cassian barely managed to block his adversary when the hitman aimed for his throat. They both grunted under the effort, alternatively punching and parrying the rapid attacks. The action kept on moving down the stairs. Cassian slammed the man’s head against a tinted decorative window. It shattered at impact, pieces of broken glass flying in all directions.

Jyn stumbled even lower, hands up in front of her, trying to anticipate the moment Cassian would lose his stance and crack his skull on the stairs.

They somehow reached the first floor, where the dead body had landed. Cassian’s back collided with a wall. He was panting from exhaustion, blood dripping from his nose onto his white shirt. The other man lunged at him, and although a violent blow ripped the knife from his grip, he didn’t stop. They punched everything they could reach with a driven, frantic, mechanical efficacy. If she thought she’d seen people fighting before, this was _something else_.

Jyn knew—from slicing into databases she wasn’t supposed to access—that Agent Andor was ex-military, Special Reconnaissance Regiment. Not someone you want to mess with. The fact that the other assailant wasn’t already dead spoke volumes of the type of people Le Directeur was involved with.

When the two men rolled on the ground, still fighting for their lives, Jyn jumped into action. She retrieved the lost knife and had a moment of uncertainty, wondering what her plan had been.

Cassian wrapped an arm around the man’s neck, rear head choke, but struggled to compensate for his desperate attempts at breaking free. The hitman elbowed him in the ribs at multiple reprises. Cassian grunted from pain but didn’t let go.

Mustering up courage, Jyn decided to stab the man in the guts. The sharp blade plunged into his stomach without much resistance, only met with soft tissues. Thinking that the weapon could’ve ended up in _Cassian’s_ body made her sick. The vision of blood, slowly pouring from the stabbing wound, hit Jyn with a shiver of revulsion. She backed up eagerly, hands trembling. Cassian wasn’t struggling anymore.

He pushed the dead weight off him, catching his breath, and staggered to his feet without grace. “You’re okay?” As she didn’t respond, eyeing the knife handle sticking out of the man’s body like a cocktail pick, he grabbed her arm firmly. “ _Jyn_.”

“Yeah,” she said, hoarse voice. “I‘m good.”

She gazed at him, chest heaving from the rush of adrenaline. He looked so disheveled now, covered in sweat. Jyn barely stopped herself from threading her fingers into his hair to remedy the situation. Her attention swept lower. She opened the pants of his jacket wider, searching for any sign of injury under the blood-soaked shirt.

“Not mine,” he said, “mostly.”

 _Mostly._ Jyn clenched her jaws, an unpleasant feeling closing her throat.

“Go back to the room,” Cassian said. “I’m going to call Rook and have him deal with the mess.”

“I’m staying with you.”

The half-darkness made it difficult to really read something into his deep brown eyes, but Jyn thought it wasn’t irritation. Not this time. Still clutching the front of his jacket in both hands, her heart almost stopped when a poor smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Do you think you’ll be able to salvage my jacket? I quite like this one.”

That stupid prick. Jyn smiled, too. “Yeah, I think we can do something about that.”

⁂

The rest of the evening was thankfully uneventful.

After cleaning up and putting on a new shirt, Cassian went back to the casino for the other half of the game. No time to get off-track. Jyn stayed in the suite, staring at her screens, trying to track down information about the two dead men and coordinating the cleaning operation with Rook. She most probably reported the incident to the MI6, too.

During the next hours, Le Directeur remained utterly inexpressive. Cassian monitored every little tic on his face, every twitch of the hand. Despite his initial observations, something refused to click in his mind. Cassian ended up losing quite a lot of money on the last betting rounds, irritation eating at him. Not so much that he was left with nothing, but bleeding a few million at once was an uncomfortable experience.

At last, they called a stop for the night, leaving the game to resume the following day.

Cassian went back to the suite, all his muscles now aching from the earlier fight. He unlocked the door and slipped inside to reach the bedroom, only to find Jyn slumped on her bed. She’d fallen asleep with a computer on her chest—however that was possible.

Cassian loosened up his tie and undressed in silence, trying to shut down his temper. A slight grimace of pain manifested when he involved too much of his ribs in the process. Down to a pair of black underwear, he scooped the computer from Jyn’s care and closed it on the bedside table.

The missing weight stirred up from her sleep. She peered at him through her lashes, noticing the bruising skin of his torso. Her eyes shot up to his face, glistening with a strange expression. Not strange because it was unknown to him—simply because he hadn’t expected to see it in her eyes when she looked at him.

“Aren’t we happily married?” she whispered, closing her fingers around his wrist.

Cassian raised an eyebrow, mostly for show. This was a bad idea, they both knew it. But something had shifted after that fight. He would have done anything she’d asked tonight. “I thought you didn’t like to be smoldered by a man.”

“I thought I wasn’t your type.”

He put a knee on the bed and slowly laid himself down next to her. He breathed a sigh of relief when the back of his head hit a pillow that smelled of Jyn’s perfume. She draped the soft cotton sheets around them, her body close to him without actually touching.

“What makes you think you are?” Cassian asked.

She turned off the lights, hovering above him for a few seconds. Even in the dark, he could still see enough of her to feel the urge to put his fingers through her hair. Her skin radiated warmth against his side, only dressed with a pair of silky shorts and matching top. Her lips parted in the center, and Cassian wanted to kiss her—find out if she still tasted like alcohol.

“The fact that you’re in my bed,” she smiled.

“This is a terribly flawed argument, love.”

“Is it?” She stroked a foot against his calf. It was more affectionate than sensual, but longing coiled in the pit of his stomach all the same. He smiled back, if only less openly. “That’s what I thought,” she mused.

Alright, let her have this one, he thought. Cassian grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her open palm. “Sleep well, partner.”

She touched his cheek. “You, too.”

⁂

As it turned out: Jyn was wrong. Chance had little to do with poker at this level. Every decision had a strategic impact and one little mistake disastrous consequences.

Halfway through the game, on the following evening, things had taken a turn for the worse. Jyn couldn’t know for sure, since she wasn’t private to Cassian’s hand, but the rate at which he’d been losing money didn’t look encouraging. It made her wonder if he had been wrong about Le Directeur’s ability to hide his bluffing. Cassian had seemed confident about it, but maybe his ego had deceived him.

Maybe his opponent was really _that_ good.

Jyn watched the action from a nearby table, fidgeting with the crystal pendant on her chest. They had a contingency plan in the eventuality that Cassian wouldn’t be able to pull this one off, but it would cost precious intel to the SIS. Jyn made sure to keep track of the target’s security team, just in case. She knew she wouldn’t be of much help if things went down that path, but she would make sure to watch his back.

Cassian had been cornered into using the additional five million buy-in to stay in the game. Jyn handled the funds’ transfer and M’s exasperation during the intermission. She spared him the details, trying to see into his eyes where this was leading to.

She couldn’t read him.

Before returning to his seat, a new set of gaming plaques in hands, he bent to her and pressed a scandalous kiss on her lips. “For good luck,” he said. She kissed him back (...for good luck, _sure_.)

The number of players was down to five. It rapidly dropped to four when Calrissian played his last million and lost his hand against Le Directeur. The winning man looked smug about it, shoulders relaxed and a mocking grin on his face. The considerable fortune he had stacked in front of him infuriated Jyn. She tried to take solace in the fact that Cassian had rebuilt some funds during the last rounds, enough to be considered a threat again.

“Bet is six million,” the dealer announced.

A short pause.

“Raise,” Le Directeur said, pushing tokens in front of him.

“Raise. Twelve million, heads up.”

Cassian’s attention stayed fixed on the man, not once looking at the table. Jyn wondered what he saw, what went through his mind as he made his decision. Did he have a better hand? Was he bluffing? Was he _desperate_?

Jyn turned her necklace between her fingers, heart hammering in her chest.

“Forty million five hundred thousand dollars,” Cassian said, “all in.”

She nearly choked on air. There would be _no_ coming back if he lost that one. (Contingency plan: in the man’s suit. A lethal dose of VX. Rook standing by to dispose of the body.)

“Well, I think I will call you on that one,” Le Directeur said, still as confident.

The staring contest between the two men couldn’t possibly get more intense—or uncomfortable . Jyn stood up, unable to stay put in her chair any longer, and approached the table. One hundred and fifteen million in the pot. The lives of so many in the balance.

“Gentlemen, showdown, please.”

The first two players consecutively lost their hands to the next, Le Directeur revealing his cards. Jyn wanted to beat that condescending smile off his face with her Louboutins.

“Higher full house. Aces full of sixes,” the dealer said. “ _Monsieur_ Andor?”

When Cassian flipped his cards over, the entire room gasped, and Jyn with it.

“Five and Seven of Spades, A straight flush. The high hand.” The audience applauded. “ _Monsieur_ Andor wins.”

Le Directeur stormed out of the room, a murderous look on his face. Ruined. Short of options. Ready to be apprehended by the SIS. One terrorist off the streets. Jyn dialed a number on her smartphone, leaving it to ring a few times.

Cassian left the table after the others, catching Jyn by the waist. “Congratulations,” she said, voluntarily unimpressed. “You had me worried for a bit.”

“It was all part of the plan,” he had the nerves to tell her. Although, a small smile gave him away.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“I think a celebration is in order now that I’m a rich man.”

“What do you want to do?” she asked.

Cassian looked down the deep neckline of her black velvet dress. Without missing a beat, he said: “You.”

A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine. Jyn pressed her body tight against him, lips moving along his throat, and whispered into his ear: “I hope you don’t fuck like a rich man, Monsieur Andor.”

His head turned to her, nose in her hair. He took a deep breath. The hand curled around her hip gently moved to the small of her back, caressing the curve of her ass without shame. “Only one way to find out, love.”

⁂

Her dress hit the floor. Cassian’s hands tangled into her loose hair, guiding her head back. His lips returned to hers, biting her as he walked her to the bed. Jyn yanked the shirt free from his pants, unbuttoning it without care. She couldn’t wait to have him naked against her body. The thrill of the night had left them both craving for intimacy.

Cassian grabbed her waist and tipped her over, falling with her on the mattress. He opened her legs with a knee and without question, crushing her under his weight. A faint noise of pleasure caught in her throat. Jyn pushed the shirt off his shoulders, finding the reward of burning skin underneath. He threw the fabric to the floor, forgotten.

Without pausing, Jyn circled her thighs around his waist, seeking more surfaces in contact between their bodies. His hands roamed over her legs, under her knees, all the way down to her ankles. Cassian took off her heels and kissed her stomach, slowing trailing up.

Jyn closed her eyes, the sharp edges of her mind smoothing out under his attention. His tongue circled one nipple while his thumb traced the other. Jyn stirred under him, grabbing his hair in turn, asking without words. He closed his mouth and sucked on her breast as if his life depended on it. This got another deep moan out of her.

She’d been under so much tension since the moment they first met. Jyn didn’t have much patience left. No more playing games.

“Cassian,” she said, almost pleading. He groaned to the sound of her voice. Jyn arched to him, easing off some tension by grinding her hips on him. He followed her, moving with her, which—on second thought—did not ease off _anything_.

Her wandering hands returned to his ass just when his mouth abandoned her chest to dive onto her neck. The graze of his teeth on her sensitive skin made her shiver. His musky perfume penetrated her brain, wrapping around her consciousness.

He kissed her repeatedly, leaving red marks all over her throat. Jyn scrapped his back with nails to retaliate, feeling the muscles of his shoulders flex under her touch.

Heat flared up inside her body, pulsing in waves, aching soreness between her thighs. She needed to be touched so badly. But the moment he would start, she would lose it completely. She refused to miss out on the experience. She wanted everything.

Jyn pushed him on his back. He complied without resistance, pulling her on top of him. His dark eyes focused on her, filled with desire. When she rocked against his straining cock, fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs. Jyn breathed harder, sweat down her spine. Her hands worked fast to open the buckle of his belt. She palmed him through layers of fabric, enjoying the way he groaned and pressed himself into her hand.

“Good boy,” Jyn nagged. He laughed, squeezing her thighs like a warning.

“Don’t make me teach you some manners.” His voice felt like sunset on her shivering skin.

She opened the flyer of his pants and pulled him free. With a deliberate lack of pressure, Jyn closed her fingers around the soft skin. “Like what?” she said, bending over his chest. She ran a thumb along the shaft, and fuck if she wasn’t dripping wet from anticipation.

Cassian parted his lips to breathe. She could follow the battle for control into his burning gaze. It left her light-headed, knowing she wasn’t the only one on the verge of spontaneous combustion.

“Is that how you want it?” he asked, “Agent Erso likes it rough, uh?”

The words sunk deep into her core, arousal building up way beyond the point of excitement. “I like to come without having to do anything. Is that one of your skills?”

She wondered if he could read beyond her pretending and hear the desperation in her voice. She wondered if he _liked_ it, enjoying the mess he was making out of her.

“You’re about to find out,” Cassian said, and his voice was failing, too.

“First, I’m going down on you.” His fingers gripped her skin harder as if trying to anchor him to something. Jyn’s eyes widened a little, goosebumps spreading from where he held her. “That’s your tell,” she whispered, “is it? That twitch in your hands.”

A deep laugh rose from his chest. His hands skimmed over her, coming around her waist, “Yes.”

“How did you manage to hide it?”

“It takes a little more than a poker game to unravel me,” his voice almost died down to a murmur. Cassian brushed his thumbs on the swelling of her breasts. “You, on the other hand, are killing me.”

Jyn swallowed hard. She gave another squeeze of the hand around him and watched him throwing his head back with a frown of frustration. The satisfaction she felt over his reaction was unmeasurable. She wasn’t going to stop just now.

Pushing herself off, Jyn moved to the end of the bed. Standing there, she dragged the black pants down his thighs. Cassian got rid of it with a last kick of the foot. Underwear followed suit, leaving him completely naked under her greedy stare. Jyn took her time to appreciate the sight of him. The definition of lean muscles, the little patches of discolored skin here and there, the dark line of hairs going down his stomach to his groin.

She had to admit, he had a really nice cock.

Jyn kneeled on the soft carpet, in between his legs, pushing his knees apart as he’d done to her. Cassian most likely enjoyed the spectacle, because he sat up to watch her. She didn't look away. She pressed her lips on him and tasted salty and warm skin.

The initial teasing caused his hands to move closer to the edge of the bed. The rest of his body stayed still, except for the involuntary twitch of his erection.

Jyn almost smiled, but licked his length instead, all the way up. She opened wider and took him into her mouth. The sound he produced had her burning from need. She went as deep as she could, slowly dragging her lips up and down. Her tongue swirled around him, and the longer she spent driving him to the edge, the harder his breathing hammered into the silent room.

“Jyn— ” he said, “ _fuck_.”

The way her name tumbled from his lips, so carefree and eager, had her brain collapsing further.

Losing an internal battle, Cassian tangled his hand between strands of brown hair. He didn’t try to guide her—which she would have not taken well—but grabbed the back of her head and moaned loudly. She whined from pleasure.

“Jyn.” A noticeable strain in his voice. She knew what he meant to say.

She peered at him, breaking away for a minute, and bit a spot over his left hip. “Didn’t you say you wanted to use my mouth?”

“Do you like it if I do?”

A defiant grin appeared on her face. She scratched her nails on the side of his legs, feeling his hips jerking from the touch. “Only if you can get it up again for me,” she warned. “And _not_ in five hours.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“Come in my mouth,” Jyn whispered, inviting him back between her lips. The obscene sounds of her work paired with his hoarse moaning. His breathing became faster the longer she kept going at it, almost erratic. She couldn’t lie; she loved the complete control she had over him.

_Look at that, Agent Andor. Not so smug, now, are you?_

He came with a half-swallowed groan. Jyn released him, the bitter taste of his semen lingering on her tongue. She traced her lower lip with her thumb, enjoying the way he was looking at her, worshipping. “You gotta quit smoking,” she said.

A short laugh agitated his chest. He guided her to sit on his lap, legs bent to the side, and kissed the space between her neck and shoulder. “Not to your taste?”

“Could be better,” she said, although she wouldn’t mind doing more of that about anytime. Not that she would tell him. “You don’t wanna put off your partners.”

“Careful how you use that word,” he warned, holding her tight. The searing fire in his smiling eyes had her heart beating too fast, bruising her ribs. Jyn circled his shoulders with one arm, looking for his lips.

She forgot the snarky reply she had in mind when he kissed her.

“Cassian,” she gasped between hungry kisses.

He turned around, still holding her, and dragged her in the center of the bed. Jyn rolled over, back pressed to his hard chest, a layer of sweat quickly merging their bodies together. He pushed her hair aside, and his lips returned on her nape. At the same time, one hand snaked over her stomach pressing against her. His hand moved between her legs, and Jyn failed to silence her impatience.

A low chuckle vibrated behind her. He offered long strokes with his middle finger, over the damp fabric of her underwear, and whispered into her ear: “Now, that’s what I call being turned on.” She had nothing to respond, only bucked into his hand as if it could convince him to help her further.

Cassian pushed the lace down her hips, and Jyn wiggled it lower, forgotten somewhere around her legs. His fingers returned, parting her with soft pressure. His hand started to draw gentle circles on her. Jyn moaned her appreciation, head pressed against the side of his face. His other hand was on her breast, squeezing and relaxing in rhythm.

Her brain went offline.

Jyn was burning up, desperate to chase after the height of that crushing wave. She could feel herself dripping into his hand. Her skin seemed too tight, her limbs too heavy. A short whimper parted her lips. The faster he moved his hand, the harder it was to breathe. Her heart hammered in her chest. Jyn arched her back, a sizzling tension running up and down her spine. He kept her in place, he kissed her neck, he pressed lower.

The teasing of his fingers into the softer flesh had her properly moaning, full voice echoing in the room. She’d only known that type of soreness a few times in her life and he was stealing the grand prize, here, too. That fucking bastard.

A straight shot of ecstasy passed through her body when he pushed a finger inside her. He had another one following shortly after, rubbing at her, stroking the throbbing flesh. Jyn couldn’t articulate anything. She was so close to the edge. Damn, it felt so _good_.

The beginning of her orgasm hit her and lasted for long seconds before she finally reached that peak of release, contracting around his fingers. Pure bliss.

Her body went limp in his arms. He didn’t move, waiting for her to ride it down.

When she recovered enough that she remembered how to breathe, Jyn finally got rid of the lacy underwear and turned around to face him.

“You look so proud of yourself,” she huffed.

“How do you like that for not doing anything?”

“Yeah, it was nice.”

“Only nice?” he asked, nuzzling into her hair and kissing her jawline.

“Do you want a medal or something? You’re doing the bare minimum, especially after that skillful blowjob.”

He grabbed her chin, almost kissing her lips. “I should’ve known you’d be so hard to please.”

“Maybe after a second one… you’ll get more praise.”

Jyn nipped at his lips. This time, he kissed her. And kissed her. And _kissed_ her.

Well, shit.

Cassian moved on top of her and she wondered for how long they’d been fooling around like that. Surely, a while. They’d made a mess of that bed. He was hard again, gliding his cock against her wet skin. Jyn didn’t think twice before hiking her legs higher. He pushed into her with a single thrust, no help needed. She moaned into his neck. What an upgrade from fingers.

Jyn grabbed the short length of his hair and forced his lips down on her. He was such a great kisser, he’d made her an addict already. She moved her hips to meet him, “I want to feel you.”

His next breath turned into a groan. His forehead pressed against her; she could tell he was frowning. “You’re ruining everyone else for me and you should be ashamed,” he complained.

“Terribly,” Jyn said, trying to ignore all the layers contained in his words.

Balancing on his elbow, Cassian thrust harder into her. Jyn produced a shameless sound of pleasure. All of her nerve endings were ablaze. The smell of sex was unmissable around them, clutching to their skins and the white sheets. Jyn got what she was asking for: the feel of him, deep inside her, fucking her hard and fast. And yet he could still make it the most sensual moment she’d ever experienced.

Maybe he was ruining everyone else for her, too.

Unfair.

“That’s your tell,” Cassian groaned, panting on the side of her face.

She barely had enough air to ask: “ _What_?”

“The necklace,” and Jyn realized she had a hand pressed to her chest, holding the crystal pendant in place. “When you’re overwhelmed…”

“I’m _not_ ,” she tried to defend herself. Although—

“No? Kiss me, then.”

She hated the fact that he was _right_. But then, she remembered that she knew his tell, too. (Mutual trust. Partners.) Jyn captured his lips and caressed his tongue. His warm breath met hers. She held onto his shoulders, closing her arms around him.

Jyn started moaning his name, past the point of no return, and the second orgasm was just as good as the first. Better, maybe, for it being so unexpected and unusual of her. Added to the fact that she got to share it with him so intimately. Cassian roughly thrust up into her, fucking her all through it without holding back. He came seconds after her, his body spasming, a breathy noise in his throat.

They stayed immobile for a while, allowing each other to regain some sense of composure. Even so, boneless and exhausted, Jyn still had the need to stay close to him. When he finally lay down next to her, he kept his arm open as an invitation.

Really, it couldn’t get more compromising than this. Against better judgment, Jyn chose to snuggle against him. His arm curled around her waist, pulling her closer.

“Did you have time to revise my rating?”

She let out a small sarcastic laugh. “It was _nice_.”

“I won’t win with you, will I?” Cassian asked, although it was clear from the relaxed state of his body and the casual tone of his voice that he was in no need of reassurance.

Jyn looped a leg around his thigh. “Take a shower with me, maybe we’ll avoid a divorce.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you had a good time and leave me a little comment please! ❤️


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